The Lesser Evils
by Grinning Fellow
Summary: Portrait of Ruin storyline. There are many roads that lead to Castlevania, and many beings who have come to call it home. But sometimes, a fall from grace is worth the power that it grants.


**Chapter 1: Sir Dullahan**

The sky above the encampment was a decayed grey. Like it had always been. As far as Dullahan could tell, like it always would be.

It would never have bothered him much, but he'd seen beyond it. It had only been the one time, but he had been there, the Kingdom in the Stars, and seen what it was like.

The endless torrents of azure and the sky that was punctured with white lights so bright and prominent that it hurt Dullahan's eyes had burned its way into his memory. He'd been guarding the gate for years now, possibly even centuries. He could not remember much other than the battles. The days tended to lump themselves into a dull haze in his mind. That only made the image of the Kingdom burn even brighter, and it bothered Dullahan more and more.

Likewise, he could recall the first thing said to him with crystal clarity. He was standing beneath an ivory tower, his armour hanging awkwardly on his body. All around him, similar creatures to himself had gathered. They too wore heavy metal plates and carried broadswords and halberds and axes. He'd heard murmuring and when he looked up, he understood why.

It was hard to make out the details of the thing above them. It had a radiance that prevented Dullahan from looking too closely. He could tell that it was tall and slender, with golden hair falling down to its shoulders and hiding its eyes. Alabaster wings spread out, engulfing the surrounding light and drawing it towards the figure.

This was all Dullahan could take in before he was forced to look away, the pain in his eyes too intense. He lifted his hand to wipe away the tears streaming down his face, only to find they'd already been burned away.

_Hear now, Noble Brethren_, it spoke in a booming voice. The man was unsure if the winged creature had opened his mouth to speak—or if it even had a mouth to begin with. Regardless, the sound filled Dullahan's head with a commanding but melodic tone.

_We have been dispatched with a decree from the Father. Ye have been tasked with a special mission of faith. _

It reached out with a luminescent hand and pointed downwards. Dullahan and his comrades peered where the ground had once been, and saw something below their world. It was grey and dull and empty. It made Dullahan shiver.

_There ye shall be sent. Upon arrival, ye shall await Our further instructions. What it is, We cannot say. However, it is told that when it approaches, ye shall know. Fare thee well, brethren._

And that was it. In an instant, the messenger was gone, and Dullahan could see the hole in the ground opening up further.

Painfully, Dullahan looked up at his Kingdom for what he could tell would be the final time. His eyes darted around the endless landscape, taking it all in.

And then, he Fell.

Dullahan was unsure how long he had been falling. He remembered looking up once, and seeing all around him flames. He could hear a shrieking that slashed through his head like a blade. Inside some of the flames, there were figures that looked a lot like the winged creature above the ivory tower. They writhed in a pain more horrible than Dullahan could imagine, and they sought to escape their inferno prisons, but their wings were charred black and crumbled with each desperate flap.

There was a streak of white in the sky too, and then nothing else. Dullahan just thought it was a bad dream.

When he woke up, he was lying on the cold ground of the Grey World. He looked up to the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Kingdom of Light. But all he saw was the absence of colour, stretching out in every direction.

Dullahan was the first to rise from the ground, which was littered with rocks and ash. He took a deep breath, and noticed the stale taste the air had down here.

"What do we do now?" asked Caraval, another of the soldiers. His voice hung in the wind, haunting the air long after he had said it.

Dullahan turned and faced his troops, his soft features completely expressionless.

"Now? We set up camp."

---

Thinking back, Dullahan realized that each of the men had been equipped with plenty of weapons and supplies when they landed on the Grey World. He'd later come to the conclusion that they had been created before the Great War, and had been sent down to the lower realm in order to take possession of the gate that existed between this world and the Dark Place.

Dullahan smiled grimly. He had to admit, his Lord had foresight.

And with that prescience came His vast, complex, incomprehensible plans. Or perhaps boredom. Dullahan was unsure. But what he did know was that, since their Fall, his soldiers had not seen a single reinforcement or any sign of relief from the Kingdom. All they had seen was the legions of monsters that poured out from the gate.

At first, there had only been a few. Scouts, most likely. They clambered through the gate on their legs or talons or slimy bellies and Dullahan must have thought they were surprised and dismayed by the world they had been sent to. Perhaps they thought it was penance for some past, forgotten deed. Granted, it didn't matter too greatly, as they were torn apart by swords and spears and arrows a few moments later, but sometimes in the night—which Dullahan could tell was the night only because of the slightly darker tint of grey that permeated the sky—he liked to ponder what the monsters thought of this brave new world they were supposed to capture. He would be surprised if his impression and theirs was very different.

Of course, the tiny detachment of monsters had only been the vanguard. Soon the gate was teeming with beasts and horrors that lunged over top of one another to get to their enemy quicker. There had been at least ten battles, from what Dullahan could remember. He and his forces had pushed the demons back every time, but it would always cost them more and more lives. And, unlike their foes, Dullahan and his men did not have an inexhaustible supply.

There were only three of them now. Dullahan, Morikar, and Vannis. Caraval was still alive too, but he had had his legs torn from him by something with three mouths. He was useless in a fight.

Dullahan knew the next fight would be his last. It didn't bother him that much anymore. He almost welcomed the idea of change from the endless cycle of the fighting. At least he'd no longer have to bury any of his friends.

The air suddenly turned acrid, and he knew what that meant.

"The gate is opening, Sir Dullahan!" the voice of Vannis shouted over the wind. A moment later, he came running into Dullahan's view. He was pulling his blood red gauntlets onto his hands and picking up weapons that lay on the ground.

Vannis was much younger-looking than Dullahan and the rest of the warriors. This puzzled Dullahan, because he knew they had all been created at the same time. A scar ran the length of Vannis's cheek, from forehead to chin; a surprise from a monster with a surprise set of claws. Despite this, he still retained his strange youthfulness that had made Dullahan hesitant to put him in battle. Not that there was much choice now.

"Sound the alarm," Dullahan said automatically, "and summon Morikar. We'll take them the second they come from the gate."

"Aye, sir," Vannis responded dutifully before taking off into the encompassing greyness.

---

The three stood stoic in front of the swirling black mass that made up the gate. Morikar had taken up position on the left, a crossbow gripped in his hands. He didn't tremble with the weight of the weapon and the fear that paralyzed them all, and he looked like a statute. On the right flank, Vannis had stood with a battleaxe in each hand. Dullahan stood in the center, facing straight into the abyss before him. Anguished cries wailed from beyond the void, resonating in Dullahan's very soul. He took a deep breath and drew his lance up to chest level.

It was all over before he knew it. Within a second of the gate's opening, the beasts had piled on to the three of them. Far away, Dullahan could feel a tremor in his weapon as he felt the pointed tip plunge itself through the bodies of half a dozen slimy creatures. But there were more than half a dozen creatures spilling through the maw of the black gate, and soon they had forced Dullahan to the ground. As they tore through his armour with their spears and acidic bile, he looked up to see Vannis, still trying to swing his axes despite having monsters pinning down either arm. His face, what was left of it, was twisted into a grimace of concentration, and Dullahan noticed he no longer looked very young.

Then it all went white.

When Dullahan opened his eyes, the brightness forced them shut instantly. For a second, he thought he was back in the Kingdom. But there had been a feeling of connection there, and even though it had been an eternity since he had been in the Kingdom, he could tell this place lacked it. It was sterile; utterly devoid of any presence.

"Hello," someone called out in the blank space. Carefully, Dullahan opened his eyes, allowing them to slowly adapt to the blinding whiteness. In front of him, walking at a leisurely pace, was a man.

As he moved closer to the warrior, his features became more defined. His was old, his face decorated with wrinkles, yet he still retrained a graceful appearance. He was dressed from head to foot in white clothing that Dullahan did not recognize. His hair consisted of strands of silver that were drawn back into a ponytail that ran down to the back of his neck. Most notable about this rather unremarkable man, however, were his eyes, which were the blackest hue Dullahan had ever seen. Even the gate to the Dark Place could not compare.

"Are you feeling alright?" The Man in White asked Dullahan.

"Yes, I…am," the armoured soldier responded, slightly surprised by this. Wasn't it just a moment ago that he had been swarmed by monsters?

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but the older man raised a hand placidly. "I know you have questions. Don't worry, we'll get to them."

Something tucked into the corner of Dullahan's mind suddenly came to life. "I...have seen you before," he said.

The Man in White smiled knowingly. "You'd be amazed how often I get that," he explained.

"I was falling from the sky," Dullahan continued slowly, as his memory unfolded, "and you were there, with the ones on fire."

"Ah yes," the Man in White responded, a wistful tinge entering his voice, "I'm not going to forget that day."

He suddenly straightened up. "Come, Sir Dullahan," he stated, as though he very much wanted to change the subject, "I've got something to show you."

The Man in White lifted his arm and pointed to Dullahan's right. A door was there, one Dullahan hadn't seen before. Cautiously, the soldier approached it, opening it wide and stepping through.

His feet landed on solid rock. All around him was rock, and flame. And screaming. Dullahan almost collapsed from all the screaming.

"I'll never get used to the sound either," came a voice from behind him, and Dullahan turned to see the Man in White stepping through the door, shutting in behind him, "and I'm here often enough."

"What…_is _this place?" Dullahan asked.

"Hell, Hades, Gehenna, the Dark Place, and so on. This place has many names, and it will gain many more."

"It's so…bright." The soldier murmured.

Behind him, the Man in White laughed. "Now, that's not something you usually hear from the people who are brought here."

"Why did you bring me here?"

The man sighed, and then turned to look Dullahan in the eyes, "I may as well tell you the truth. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but right now, there's a bit of an…unbalance. So I've had to step in. Now, you've got a choice: you can either accept your death, and go to what lies beyond. Otherwise, you can stay here. Chaos is in need of soldiers."

Dullahan looked back into the man's obsidian eyes.

"And what lies beyond?"

The Man in White sighed, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't tell you that. There are rules to abide by."

"And, were I to stay here, I would remain in this place?"

"Essentially, yes."

"I see," Dullahan said, "You know, I do not understand why it is called the Dark Place. I have not seen such light since..." His words slipped away as he once again recalled the memory.

"You've got a pretty optimistic view of things," the Man in White said to him.

Dullahan looked as the inferno billowed all around him. The warmth from it encircled his body, and he had already forgotten the bitter cold of the Grey World.

"I will stay here," he said to the Man in White, "it has been so long since I've seen the light."

A flicker of sadness flashed across the man's face, and then it was gone. "I wouldn't quite call this the light, Sir Dullahan."

When Dullahan turned to face him again, the Man in White was holding a scythe in his hands.

"But maybe, one day, you'll get to see that light again."

He swung the blade.

---

Somewhere, far across the reaches of distance and time, Dullahan felt doors opening up for him. The castle called out to him. He was home.


End file.
